Hey, I would consider the same day fairly soon, at least by my standards.

I went to a dinner at my prof's house tonight--a fine thing indeed, as the Commons are closed Sunday night and we are not fed dinner. Which was something my mother did warn me about after all--the fact that everything is closed in Wisconsin on Sundays, and I'd just as well get used to it. A midwest thing, I hear. West and East coasts a bunch of dirty heathens (as usual) I am sure.

Anyway, it was the first time I've had real food in a damn long time. Matt--a guy in my class--cooked almost everything, save my prof's corn bread, and some cookies. Damn the boy can cook. If he didn't talk so much I might marry him. And, you know. If I was the marrying "type," so to speak.

We watched Ocean's 11. It was good, I guess. I mean, it was good, and funny, and all that. Just not especially memorable. Maybe some will come back to me later, but I really couldn't tell you much about it. I liked this one guy's--Bashir's?--accent. That's enough, right? But yes, a good movie. Not something I'd tell you to rent--I preserve that for things like G.I. Joe--but something I'd say you should vote for, should a party occur and movies need to be voted on.

But on to other things. Bitchin' redesign, VK. I love how you can keep the same colors and pull a proper redesign and I can only figure out how to upload pictures of guitarists. And honey, don't play with Mr. Yorke. You've seen the teeth. They bite.

I've got Nancy Boy by Placebo firmly imbedded in my mind right about now. Anne has developed a right proper fixation on Brian Molko, and often comes by to watch some videos I downloaded for her. Which includes Nancy Boy. Not that I protest, it's good music. I just am amused by her love for him. Especially as he--at times, although not so much in this photo--bears a resemblance to First Person Main of Persona Revelations. Twice as eerie, however, for the fact that two seperate people have said that I look like Molko a bit. Which is a claim I deny, but all the same, there it is. It's probably just the simple mathematics of the haircut + shortness + paleness + rings around the eyes. Nothing too staggering, I'm afraid.

But don't you love that greasy sheen on my cheeks? Honestly, I'm looking more like Snape or something there. But the only other good photo of myself on my hard drive makes me look more like Thom Yorke than Molko. So it goes.

I'm quite revved for next week. Pansy Division, I can't believe it! I hope Peter talks to Eddie soon, and figures out what's up with ticket prices. For, although it's an exciting week coming up, it's nevertheless stressful. Especially with the Japanese midterms. And the Sophie's Choice essay--something I'm not looking forward to after bombing (so it was a C. It's alright) the Malcolm X one... We'll see, eh?

And now for your photo. I enjoy saving everything I promise for last.

This photo is just a little project for you kids. I'd like you to write a compare - contrast essay on...

My shoes.

The new orange Chucks came in the mail a few days ago, and I'm endlessly pleased as my maroon ones sort of, well. Smell like rotten flesh.

Not that I was grave robbing or anything...